He pulled me onto his lap, and I straddled him and reached for him, needed to touch him, to feel the solidity of his body against mine.
Not enough.
He helped me pull my shirt over my head, and I cupped his face, tracing along his stubbled jaw.
He stared at me, then shifted as he leaned into my touch. This was different from our first night together. There was no hiding, no pretense, no uncertainty, and no more walls between us. We had seen each other—truly seen each other—and both chosen each other.
“I want to feel you,” I whispered, leaning in until my lips brushed against his as I spoke. “Feel you fill me up completely.”
His eyes darkened, his pupils expanding until only a thin ring of blue remained. His hand came up to cradle my throat, his thumb brushing my cheekbone with surprising gentleness given the intensity of his gaze.
“You know I love you, and I cherish you, right?” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made heat pool low in my belly. “Because in the next half hour, it might seem like I don’t.”
The warning sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His raw, honest desire. But we both had nothing left to hide. “I trust you,” I said simply, the words carrying more weight than any passionate declaration could.
His response was a low growl, reverberating through my body like a bass note. He claimed my lips in a kiss that was equal parts hunger and tenderness, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth until I opened willingly, inviting him in.
Our naked bodies pressed together as I circled my hands up his back, feeling the play of muscle and sinew under his skin. He tasted like the storm outside, powerful and dangerous, a potent mix that matched everything else about him. My hand reached up to thread through his hair, pulling lightly as I deepened the kiss, my heart hammering in my chest like a caged bird finally freed.
Ivan shifted suddenly, grabbed my ass, lifted me up, carried me across the room, and put me down on the couch.
“Do not move,” he murmured, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
He moved to his closet and came back with a black tie.
“Wha—”
“Shhh.” He hushed me with his finger against my lips, then put the tie across my eyes and turned everything black.
“Just feel.”
I inhaled sharply, and the fluttery feeling in my stomach expanded into whole-body tingles. The cool silk against my skin felt luxurious and dangerous at the same time.
He pushed me to lean back, and when I shifted back, he settled one knee between my thighs, close enough so he could surely feel just how excited I was.
He circled my throat with his hand again, then finally kissed me, sucking on my lips, my earlobe, going lower along the side of my neck, leaving a trail of saliva and goose bumps. Until he reached my breasts.
He stopped, and for a brief moment, all I could hear was his labored breathing and the sensation of his breath hitting my skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured and leaned down to press a soft kiss to each breast, before he cupped one with his hand and squeezed, while he captured the nipple between his teeth.
A shudder ran through me from head to toe at his tender bite. Not being able to see enhanced the sensations so much. I could even feel how he stared at me. How he waited to gauge my reaction.
He fondled my breasts, nipped, kissed, and sucked, and I let myself completely go, completely fall into his touch. Hisother hand slid up my leg. With gentle yet insistent fingers, he opened me up, revealing every inch of me. He circled my clit, then dipped inside, then dragged my wetness up to my breast and circled my nipple, before he licked it off me and groaned. “So fucking delicious.”
Something about the way he said it, something about the way I was so completely exposed before him while not being able to see myself, shook something loose deep inside of me. Instead of feeling vulnerable, I felt powerful. I had given this dangerous man my trust, and he treated it like the precious gift it was.
“Mine,” he growled, then nipped at the sensitive spot below my ear.
The possessiveness in that single word should have alarmed me. Instead, it sparked a fire that raced through my veins. I arched against him, my body responding to his as if we’d been made for each other.
I needed more—needed to feel him against me, inside of me.
What followed was unlike anything I had experienced before—not with Ivan on our first night together, not with anyone else before him.
He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t polite. He was primal, intense, almost desperate in his rawness.
He grabbed my hips and flipped me around, so I was kneeling on the couch.
